


but i didn't do it right (can i try again, try again, try again)

by headaaches



Series: university au [1]
Category: Frankenstein & Related Fandoms, Frankenstein - Mary Shelley
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, First Kiss, Fluff, M/M, Mutual Pining, Trans Male Character, Trans Victor Frankenstein
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-23
Updated: 2019-08-23
Packaged: 2020-09-24 21:33:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,220
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20365435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/headaaches/pseuds/headaaches
Summary: i hope you liked this!! it's super soft and fluffy... as always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!





	but i didn't do it right (can i try again, try again, try again)

The sunrise over their dorm room sent warm, rosy light flowing through the window as Victor woke up, leaning against Henry’s shoulder as he had many nights before. 

Victor blinked the sleepy bleariness from his vision and went to rub his eyes, hand colliding with his glasses on the way there. He winced, moved his glasses up onto his head, and sighed. 

In the thin pink glow from the window, Henry’s hair was glowing golden. The laptop that was sitting halfway between them was dying, the end credits for some episode of one of Henry’s telenovelas playing onscreen. Victor shifted his hand and noticed with no small amount of alarm that their fingers were intertwined, and he could  _ physically feel _ his heartbeat speeding up. 

It was bad enough waking up next to his stupid gay unrequited crush, with all that that implied screaming in Victor’s head. Now they were actually holding hands. And Victor hadn’t initiated it, of course, he was way too shy (and too much of a coward) to do that. Which meant that Henry had, somehow, in the middle of the night, maybe during some particularly emotional scene—

He bit his lip. That was a stupid thing to imagine. It wasn’t like he would ever do that on purpose.

Of course, he wasn’t going to move his hand. Why would he? His only opportunity to make himself suffer with comfortable physical contact with Henry was right here, and he wasn’t about to pass it up. Not for anything, even a degree. Or top surgery. Or a million dollars. 

The pain in his back said otherwise. 

He sat up, wincing as he felt his spine crack. This was the third night in a row he’d fallen asleep like this—in his binder,  _ and _ his glasses, on Henry’s shoulder, with a laptop on his leg. But no, he was going to ignore that and sit up and very, very carefully get out of bed and get dressed and do the three-foot late-night-TV-cuddle walk of shame back to his side of the dorm and get dressed— 

“Good morning,” Henry said, his voice still rough from sleep, and all of Victor’s plans flew out the window. 

Victor hadn’t ever seen Henry just waking up. Usually it was after he’d showered and gotten dressed. On one  _ incredibly  _ memorable occasion, it had been just after he’d showered and had left his shirt in the dorm room, and Victor had been haunted by that mental image for several incredibly sleepless nights. 

This was a different image altogether. His hair, messy from sleep, dark curls falling in his face and over his eyes, expressive, shining in the light, and  _ God _ , they were so beautiful. A hazy memory came into the periphery of his mind, silvery-gray eyes with tiny golden specks carrying him back to the start of the year, but he ignored it because Henry was  _ here. _ Looking down at him.

Was that love? The expression on his face—the way he was looking down at him—the glimmer of mischievous light in his eyes—could it possibly be?

“Hey. You awake?” Henry waved a hand in front of Victor’s face, still smiling down at him with that irritatingly perfect smile. 

“What? Yeah. I’m—yeah.”

“A little out of it this morning, huh, Vic?” He laughed a little. 

Victor  _ hated _ nicknames. He had always hated nicknames. He thought they were irritating and had no real purpose. So why did his heart skip a beat every time Henry called him ‘Vic’?

“Sorry. Just thinking.”

“You’re always thinking,” he said. “What is it this time? Another project that’s going to save the planet?” 

“You.” Victor hadn’t meant to answer honestly, but he had, and the damage was done. “I—wait. No. I mean, yes, but no.”

“Those mean opposite things, Vic,” Henry said, laughing and adjusting his hand in Victor’s. “You sure you slept enough last night?” 

He couldn’t focus on responding, not when Henry had physically acknowledged that they were holding hands, and he hadn’t tried to stop it. He had actively continued it. And holy  _ shit, _ was that a set of emotions that Victor was not prepared to deal with at 6:00 in the fucking morning.

“You’re really out of it, huh?”

“Sorry. I don’t know what’s up with me today, just kind of… in a weird mindset.”

“Are you okay?” Henry asked, worry evident on his face. “You’ve been sleeping really badly the past few nights, and working yourself really hard.”

“I’m fine,” Victor said, because he was stubborn. 

“You don’t look fine,” Henry said, looking Victor in the eyes. He gently rested his free hand on Victor’s face—holy shit, they were touching even more now—and ran his thumb along the dark circles that ringed Victor’s eyes. 

“These are really bad. You’ve been sleeping, right?” His tone was almost accusatory; of course, there was a good reason for that, as Victor had a tendency to forget to sleep. Sometimes it was intentional, sometimes it wasn’t. 

“Yes, I’ve been sleeping,” he said with a sigh. “Leave me alone about it.”

“Doesn’t look like it,” Henry said, and  _ his hand was still on Victor’s face. _ “Tomorrow night you have to sleep, okay? You’re going to bed early, and so help me, if I see you awake before eight, I will actually kill you.”

Victor laughed. “Okay, okay. I’ll sleep.”

“You’d better,” he said. “I really have to threaten you to get you to sleep. Wow.  _ Te quiero _ , Victor, but you really get on my nerves sometimes.” 

Victor’s heart felt like it was going to explode out of his chest. “Wh—wait, what?” 

“I said you get on my nerves—”

“No, no, I know that.” He was still trying to process it. To make sure he hadn’t misheard. 

Henry said little phrases in Spanish all the time. It was a little irritating that Victor couldn’t understand, so he’d started learning. He wasn’t very good yet. He could barely understand half the things Henry said. Of course, he’d barely started learning, so he only knew a few phrases.

One of the phrases he was  _ incredibly  _ certain of was “ _ te quiero _ ”. He’d had big plans for that. Big plans to walk up to Henry and say it and hope that he didn’t die of embarrassment, because “ _ te quiero _ ” was “I love you” and all of a sudden Victor wasn’t sure if he remembered how to breathe.

“The Spanish?” Henry suddenly looked just as embarrassed as Victor felt. “Oh, uh, no, it’s just—yeah, it’s really nothing.”

“No, I  _ learned that. _ ”

“You’re learning—you know what, that’s not the biggest problem here, because—”

Victor took a deep breath. “Don’t—I don’t know what I want to say, but it sure is something, because  _ fuck _ , I’ve been trying to figure out the best way to do this for the whole year, but—God, this is going to sound ridiculous, but  _ te quiero,  _ Henry, and I never figured out how to say ‘I love you, too’ because I didn’t expect—”

His nervous rambling was cut off by Henry pulling him into a hug, and maybe Victor was a little too fast in moving in for a kiss, because their foreheads collided and sent them both back, gasping for breath.

“Fuck, I already messed it up,” Henry said, laughing. 

“Shut up,” Victor said, and kissed him again. 

This time it was good. Not that the time before hadn’t also been good, but this time it was incredible. Like, every movie trope about fireworks or butterflies or whatever it was supposed to be—this was that, but more. It was pretty overwhelming, in the sense that he felt like his entire body was on fire. He could smell the shampoo that Henry used, a smell he was incredibly familiar with from his accidental hoodie theft, except much closer. 

Henry’s hand made its way to the back of Victor’s neck, resting there gently as the kiss deepened. Was this what it was supposed to be like? Because this was awkward. A good kind of awkward, and he couldn’t deny that he was enjoying it, but awkward nonetheless.

They both pulled back, foreheads resting against each other, and Victor couldn’t help but laugh a little, a bit dizzy from elation. 

“So,” Henry said with a grin, “that was—that was neat.”

“That’s all you can say? Neat? You can write all these poems, but when it actually comes to saying anything, all you can say is  _ neat _ ?”

“Shut up,” Henry said, laughing. “You  _ learned Spanish _ for me, you hopeless romantic. I love you so much.”

Victor rolled his eyes. “How do you say ‘I hate you’ in Spanish? I really want to get the message across.”

“It’s  _ te quiero _ ,” Henry said, that irritating smirk on his face yet again. 

“You can’t trick me that easily,” Victor replied, pulling Henry down so they were both curled up, hands still intertwined.

“Oh yeah? Well, I know how to say it in Mandarin,” he said, ruffling Victor’s hair with one hand.

“Oh, do you now? Enlighten me.” Victor lay back onto Henry’s pillow, looking over at him expectantly.

“ _ Wǒ ài nǐ _ , Victor,” Henry said quietly, with the most genuine emotion in his voice that he’d ever heard. 

Victor stared at him for a long moment, feeling heat rise in his face. “Dammit.” He could feel himself smiling, so wide that it almost hurt. “You’re just—did you learn that specifically to piss me off? I hate you so much, you fucking—”

He didn’t have a chance to finish his sentence before Henry was kissing him again. 

This time it was softer, slower. There was less urgency to it, more like coming back home than going somewhere new. Victor cursed himself for thinking in cliches, but he couldn’t help it. Cliches were the only way he could describe this feeling.

Henry pulled away gently, kissing him again on the forehead, on the temple, on the tip of his nose—kisses like summer rain, peppering his face. 

“You’re teasing me,” Victor said softly, smiling up at Henry. “Stop it.”

“I’m never going to stop. This just opens up a hundred new opportunities to tease you.” He ran his hand through Victor’s hair again, grinning. “For example, how we’re going to be one of those couples with a height difference.”

Victor suddenly felt incredibly out of breath. “We’re a couple?”

“If you want to be,” Henry said, the sweet expression on his face making Victor’s heart ache. 

“Yes. I do.” He leaned his head on Henry’s chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat, fast but steady, comforting. “I would like that.”

Henry sat up, smoothing down his hair with one hand. “I’m gonna go shower, okay? We don’t have classes today, we can go do something. I’ve been meaning to check out that little donut place on the corner.”

“Mm.” Victor was still preoccupied with the fact that he was  _ dating _ someone. His roommate, of all people. As Henry got up and gathered his stuff to shower, Victor lay there in the warm spot Henry had left in the bed, smiling in spite of himself. 

He stared up at the ceiling, at the tiny glow-in-the-dark star stickers that littered his side of the room. They were something he’d bought on a whim, and they were really kind of useless, but they made him happy during the sleepless nights where he’d stare up at the tiny constellations he’d made. 

For a while, he just lay there, trying to process everything that had happened. Henry had said he  _ loved  _ him. In three different languages, no less. That was, quite literally, the most romantic thing that anyone had ever done for him. It was honestly quite overwhelming. Like drowning in a sea of affection.

Finally, after a long moment, he stood up, dizzy from the morning’s excitement. The sun had risen, warming the floor where he stood. 

Henry wandered in, hair still dripping wet from the shower. “You ready to go?”

“No… not yet. I’m not dressed.”

“I should probably dry my hair, too. I just wanted to come in to do this,” he said, and gave Victor another quick kiss. 

“You taste like mint,” Victor said, laughing.

“Wow, wonder why that could be.” Henry smiled at him again, then grabbed the towel from the bathroom and started working on his hair. 

Victor sighed and got dressed, stretching quickly before throwing on his shirt. He wandered into the bathroom beside Henry and smoothed down his hair in the mirror. 

“Now you’re ready, right?”

“One second,” he said softly, wrapping his arms around Henry’s waist. “Mm. Now I’m ready.”

“Wow. How have I never seen this side of you before. You really are a romantic, huh?” Henry said, smiling down at him. Victor just nodded, leaning his head against Henry’s back. 

“Come here.” Henry turned around and picked Victor up, kissing him once before setting him down once again. “Now, we should go before it gets too crowded, alright?”

“Yeah.” Victor was still slightly dizzy from all the affection. “I’m ready.” 

The two made their way through the dorms, down the stairs, out to the campus and through town. If anyone had been paying attention, which no one was, they would have noticed that they had been holding hands the whole time. 

**Author's Note:**

> i hope you liked this!! it's super soft and fluffy... as always, comments and kudos are much appreciated!


End file.
